He drew up before the hotel and turned to look at her. She looked lovely in the semi-shadows, and he bent to kiss her. She put up a protesting hand, 'Oh darling, not now. You always disarrange my hair.' He got out, opened her door, went with her into the foyer, bade her goodnight with his beautiful manners and drove himself back home, reminding himself that Annaliese was the ideal wife for him. Her coolness was something he would overcome in time...
Ah those scarlet-wearing tartlets with the plunging necklines. What can I say? They're on the emotionally and physically stunted side, no?
Sure, our heroines have never let a long-haired path-lab assistant named Tony escort them to Brighton. They haven't snogged in any lay-bys adjacent to Brighton with junior housemen. They've never even perused the Brighton Wikipaedia page, for that matter. But I think we all know that Betty wouldn't let a heroine turn her cheek to a husband and talk about make-up smudging. No, The Venerable Neels makes it clear: There will be bounty and un-monk-ish-ness in a happy RDD home.
My question: Is it a weird juxtaposition to make the blonde tartlets so strikingly (sometimes sexily (well, if they had bosoms enough to fill out their slashed sheaths they might be)) dressed and so emotionally indifferent to s.e.x.?